Blood Wedding

“I know I’m to blame,” Rip Johnson said, coming to stand in the doorway. “God knows, I do. I told her not to run out and shoot at them, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

His words were slurred, and he slouched against the door frame as if he couldn’t stand up without a little help. Another man’s head was visible just over his shoulder. The man looked to Fargo to be in even worse shape than Rip.

“You’re drunk,” Molly told Rip. “You’re too drunk to fight, and you had to let your wife do it for you. I ought to shoot you down like the sorry dog you are, Rip Johnson.”

“Go ahead,” Rip said, tears springing to his eyes. “I know I deserve it. I’m no good without Sarah. You might as well shoot me and bury me with her.”

“Shooting’s too good for you,” Molly told him. “And don’t feel so damn sorry for yourself. It’s not manly. Who else is in there with you?”

Tears ran down Johnson’s cheeks. “I . . . I’m not sure.”

“It’s me,” said the man behind him. “I’m here.”

“Is that you, Rufe Tolliver?”

“That’s right, Molly. I don’t feel so good. I think my head’s gonna fall off.”

“You drink enough of that skull-bustin’ whiskey, and it will,” Molly said. “You’ll look mighty damn funny without it, too. Anybody else in there?”

“Frank and Alf are in the kitchen. I think they’re dead.”

“We’d better see about them, Fargo. You go ahead and do it. I’ll see what I can do for Sarah.”

There wasn’t anything she could do, and Fargo knew it, but he went on inside, pushing past the still weeping Johnson and the confused Tolliver, who shied away from him as if he thought Fargo might be going to hit him. Fargo would have if he’d thought it would do the man any good, but it wouldn’t.

In the kitchen Tom Talley lay covered on the table, just as Jed had been. There were going to be a hell of a lot of funerals before all the fighting was over, Fargo thought, at least if what had happened so far was any indication.

Alf Wesley and Frank Conner also lay in the kitchen, but they were on the floor rather than the table. Fargo looked them over. There wasn’t a mark on either of them. They were dead, true, but only dead drunk. He toed Conner with his boot. Conner stirred, turned over, and started to snore. Fargo went back outside.

Johnson and Tolliver sat on the porch. Johnson had his head in his hands. Tolliver stared vacantly out across the cornfield. Molly and Sarah were gone.

“Where’s Molly?” Fargo asked.

“She took Sarah in,” Johnson said without removing his head from his hands. “She wouldn’t let me touch her.”

Fargo didn’t blame her. He said, “You got too drunk, Johnson. You let everybody else get even drunker. You should have thought about what might happen. And you shouldn’t have let a woman do your fighting for you.”

“We fought,” Tolliver said. “We did as best we could.”

Fargo went over, pulled Tolliver’s pistol from the holster, and gave it a look.

“You fired two cartridges. That’s not much of a fight. What about you, Johnson?”

Johnson raised his head and rubbed the back of his hand across his face, leaving a light streak of dirt.

It’s none of your damn business what I did, Fargo. You just keep your hands away from my pistol.”

“I don’t have to look at it to know there weren’t many shots fired from this house. It’s a wonder Murray didn’t kill all of you and burn it to the ground. He would have, too, if Molly and I hadn’t come when we did. You’re a lucky man, Johnson.”

“How can you say that when my wife’s dead? You don’t know a thing about it.”

“Go have another drink,” Fargo said. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better.” He left the two men sitting there and went to look for Molly.

She was in the bedroom. She had laid Sarah’s body on the bed and pulled the spread up over it.

“Now they have someone else to sit up with,” she said. “I feel sorry for Sarah, but I don’t feel a damn thing for that woman-chasing Rip. Except that it should be him lying under that spread instead of Sarah.”

Fargo didn’t disagree with her.

“She must have run out there thinking she could scare them off,” Molly said. “Didn’t show much sense, did she?”

Fargo didn’t disagree with that, either.

“She was a brave woman,” Molly continued, “and I guess she thought she was defending her home, but sometimes you have to think it’s better to stay alive than to be brave.”

Fargo nodded.

“What in the hell is the matter with you?” Molly asked. “You forgotten how to talk?”

“I’m thinking,” Fargo said, which was the truth.

“What is there to think about?”

“What if Murray decides to come back? We seemed to have scared him away mighty easy, don’t you think?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. We’d better get some of those sorry excuses for men sobered up so they can use their guns if Murray doubles back.”

“We can try to get them sober,” Fargo said. “Or you could go round up some decent help.”

“That might be a better idea. You think you can handle things around here?”

Fargo grinned. “If Murray doesn’t come back, all I have to deal with is two dead people and four drunks. I ought to be able to handle them.”